


Peppermint

by Mathissi



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Future Fic, M/M, Slow Build, Slow Burn, friends - Freeform, old flame, returned romance, sterek
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-31
Updated: 2015-12-18
Packaged: 2017-12-31 02:15:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,822
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1026093
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mathissi/pseuds/Mathissi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles doesn't understand how it happened, but it's been four years. And he suddenly realizes how much he misses Derek Hale and the pack. So why doesn't he make a harmless phone call?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first post here, so leave me some feedback! I hope you enjoy!

It was peppermint tea that really did it for Stiles. It wasn’t that he liked the taste - he preferred something much sweeter or with honey and lemon - but it was that scent. It triggered something in his memory, from years ago and suddenly, he felt extraordinarily sad, as though he’d lost something and he couldn’t remember what it was.

Snow was lightly falling, as though it was in a film, falling perfectly onto his rusty window ledge and collecting just a bit. The darkness outside contrasted with the pure white color of the snow was drastic, impressive, and bold. Stiles looked at it and thought for a moment. He really just wasn’t in the mood for the season.

It was Christmas time all around but Stiles couldn’t quite get himself into the spirit. It was the first Christmas away from home. His dad had offered to come out to New York to visit him at college, but Stiles knew it wasn’t too realistic to have Beacon Hills without its primary Sheriff for such a lengthy break. Stiles remembered his excuse simply.

“Dad, Scott and I said that we were having Christmas by ourselves, this year.” It was a weak excuse, but Stilinski had been gracious enough to accept the decline with pride.

Relations with his father had been rocky at best since Stiles had moved away with Scott. Well, with everyone actually. Scott and Allison had their own lives to attend to in New York; Lydia was happily situated in California on her own salary (already in a career position while she was still in her undergraduate, of course). The only person Stiles hadn’t had any relations with was Derek.

He’d never actually expected the relationship to last between them, once Scott had become an Alpha and the original pack had split into two - honestly, their relationship had been dependent on the connection with Scott. Derek had returned to his dark loft and had secluded himself like the hermit he was.

“Derek Hale…” Stiles murmured to himself as the thought of his former pack leader had crossed his mind for the first time in a while. It made the sensation of loss already forming within Stiles’ chest throb with intensity and pain. Maybe it was the fact that he was so alone on Christmas Eve, maybe it was the lateness of the hour, but he would greatly appreciate the company of anyone… including Derek Hale.

He smelled the tea once again, letting the pain surge through his memory, trying to recall the specifics that the scent brought back to him. He couldn’t quite pull the memory out of the cabinet files filled with memory, but he was able to recall the setting: it was Derek’s apartment; everyone was there, some sort of party for some reason.

He took another whiff. Derek Hale… what happened to you? Stiles wondered to himself, a question he was sure he’d asked himself a thousand times right after he’d watched his pack – the pack – rip into pieces. Deeper pieces of the puzzle fell into place. It was the pack meeting when everything had finally settled down in Beacon Hills – after the fight with Peter for the umpteenth time. It had been the Christmas where Stiles’ father had been hospitalized in a coma because of Peter.

The memory hit Stiles directly in the face as though it were a train, a literal train of thought. His mouth fell open a bit, slacked at the corner mostly, his eyes widening. The smell was Derek Hale. That was the night where Stiles feared most for his father – that the Sheriff wouldn’t pull through the coma. He remembered it well.

It was after the party, and everyone had left Derek’s except for Stiles. Stiles, who felt he had no place – he didn’t want to go home because his father wasn’t present; he didn’t want to go to the hospital because that was both melodramatic and depressing; and he didn’t want to go to Scott’s because he couldn’t bear the pity he already received from the McCall house.

“Stiles,” Derek’s voice was husky with tiredness, but still aware and concerned sounding. Stiles jumped a moment, pulling himself from his reverie to turn to Derek, raising an eyebrow at the almost unfamiliar tone of concern in his voice. “Stiles, are you alright?”

Was Stiles alright? He couldn’t even understand the question at that moment. The answer should have been obviously no: the only remaining family member was lying in a hospital bed and the future of that person was literally at the bidding of the Fate’s string. But Stiles, turning to Derek fully, smiled. “Of course I’m okay. We did it. We finally beat that asshole uncle of yours. Of course, he could come back like he did the time I lit him on fire, but that’s just our luck isn’t it. Well, we’ll just have to fight him again if that does happen. What?”

Stiles stopped his rambling and looked up at Derek’s face, covered in an expression that almost humanized the werewolf. It was shocking enough to stop Stiles’ rambling, so it was that abnormal. It was a pitying expression that had fallen on Derek’s face: his eyes saddened, his mouth slightly turned down and pursed, his nostrils slightly flared, his eyebrows turned down out of slight frustration.

“Stiles-” Derek tried before Stiles went on the defensive.

“What Derek? Why are you giving me that expression? Are you of all people, giving me that look? Do you really pity me so? Well, shit, I didn’t know you cared so damn much!” Stiles regarded his alpha with a sneer that was completely undeserved.

“Stiles.” Derek took a step forward, extending a strong hand out to Stiles, who almost recoiled, but knew it would be hopeless. The hand landed on his shoulder, the pointer finger wrapping around the back of Stiles’ neck. “That’s not what I meant. I asked if you were alright, not if the pack was.”

Stiles tried to maintain his glare at Derek, but the obvious sense of caring in Derek’s eyes was almost too much for Stiles to remain angry at. Derek actually cared for Stiles as more than the Researcher of the pack. Stiles let the scowl fall from his face as his resolve crumbled like a sandcastle against a tsunami.

“He’s not good.” Stiles murmured under his breath, but Derek heard clearly because of his hyper-advanced hearing. The perks of being a supernatural creature. Derek didn’t speak, waiting for Stiles to regain his composure and to continue. “He’s not getting any better. He-” Stiles choked on the tears that were welling within his eyes.

As the two stood there, Derek could see Stiles muscles loosing tension, his shoulders falling, his will visibly crumbling beneath him. All Derek could picture was a small, lost child in a supermarket, trying to find where he belonged: with a parent. The tears welling up in Stiles’ eyes only managed to break Derek’s heart.

Slowly, Stiles realized that he wasn’t going to be able to avoid answering Derek’s question. And that pissed him off, but in the moment, the response to anger was tears. This reaction was in no way helpful to Stiles. The pressure against Stiles’ neck, forced from Derek’s hand, was just enough that he pulled him forward. What was this? Derek was hugging Stiles, holding him tightly and closely. And it broke Stiles.

“It’s just – it’s just,” Stiles began as tears flooded from his eyes, creating an unstoppable deluge, “he’s all I’ve got l-left in the world. And he’s in the hospital and I don’t think he’s gonna pull through and I-I need him, I don’t know what to do when he’s not there at home and I don’t want to sleep in that house, and I can’t stand being alone anymore because I just can’t stand the looks the others give me when I mention my dad.” He pulled in a shaking breath, strenuously, “And don’t get me wrong, I love Scott, but I just – I can’t do it to him – don’t want him to know.”

He coughed through the tears. Derek held him tighter, allowing him the proximity to continue the thoughts that had been ruining his life for the longest of times. “And I don’t even know if I want to go to college and loose everything I have. But if my dad’s not even here – but he just looks like her, like my mom before she died. I remember even if no one thinks I do, I remember, I remember.”

The continuum of Stiles’ rant became almost incomprehensible because of the tears that were falling across his face and the heavier sobs. Derek just held him tightly – letting him know that he was safe in this apartment, under Derek’s protection. It took a good ten minutes (maybe longer) before Stiles calmed down enough to take a deep breath. He pulled in air through his nose, making a whistling noise, and smelling the scent of peppermint.

Unbeknownst to the memory spellbound Stiles, tears had formed in the corner of his eye. That was the reason the smell had been so familiar to him in his mind. That was the moment that the rivalry between Stiles and Derek had ended – not to mean that the jokes and teasing had stopped (as if that was possible). How could Stiles have forgotten that?

Stiles pulled out his phone and held it in his hand for a moment. I’m actually missing Derek Hale? He was a bit confused over the fact, but he had to face it. The smell of peppermint was strong from the tea. He looked at his phone, thinking of the possibility. And he unlocked it with the passcode before he began to dial on the keypad. Could he possibly have the same number after all these years?

The moment Stiles pressed ‘send’ he felt his heart rate increase exponentially. He was nervous for no real reason. He and Derek had ended their relationship amicably enough, but it really had been so long. The ringing only intensified the drama. Feeling a leap in his stomach, Stiles checked the clock. It was far too late to be calling anyone; it was after midnight on the east coast. That didn’t mean Stiles was going to hang up.

“Hello?” the familiar voice picked up on the other end of the line and Stiles felt his heart drop. His mouth askew again, he tried to think of what to say. “Hello?” the insistence in the voice had increased.

“Derek…” Stiles said, his voice cracking briefly.

“Yes, you’ve called Derek Hale, how can I help you?” Derek spoke with such a formal manner to his voice, but Stiles could still make out the old Derek behind it.

Stiles laughed a bit, pulling the phone away from his ear to press the ‘end call’ button. Before he could end the call, Stiles heard Derek’s voice respond to the laugh. “Stiles? Is that you?” The call ended.

Stiles laughed at his own stupidity, realizing that he had nothing to say to Derek. After all, they were never that close (apart from that one night), and they probably had less in common now. But Stiles couldn’t help but feel attached and attracted to Derek; they’d been through so much to just survive this long in life.

His phone began buzzing in his hand where it sat. The caller ID read ‘Sourwolf’. Stiles laughed at that (the joke never would get old for him at least). Briefly, he debated not picking up the phone, but he couldn’t help himself.

“Hello?” Stiles opened as though this was Derek’s initiation, rather than a call back from Stiles’ initial call.

“Stiles?” Derek asked.

“Speaking…” Stiles tried to play nonchalant but his heart leapt a mile. He really hoped Derek couldn’t hear that through the phone.

“It’s Derek Hale.” Derek said, obviously taking the hint that their previous conversation hadn’t occurred.

“Derek? Well, Merry Christmas! How are you?” Stiles tried to sound surprised, but he obviously failed at that.

“Merry Christmas to you. And I’m well. I’ve moved east since we last saw each other. I’m living in New Jersey now.” Stiles flinched at the mention of Jersey, and the chastised himself for being superficial. “But I believe you just called me a few seconds ago, maybe the connection was bad.”

And the ruse was up. “Me? No, I didn’t call you. Why would I do that?”

“Stiles, I have caller ID.” Derek said flatly, in the old Derek manner. Shit, Stiles smiled a bit to himself before he continued.

“Okay… well, I just thought, in the holiday spirit, ya know, to call you up and check up on you.” It was a pathetic excuse, but Derek went with it.

“Well, as I said, I’m well. How about yourself?” Derek seemed genuine.

“I’m great.” It seriously sounded that genuine, meaning not at all, “I’m still in New York and I love the school.”

Derek stopped him before he could make more of a fool out of himself. “Stiles, it’s been four years since we last spoke. What’s going on?”

“Four years, are you sure?” The avoidance tactic wasn’t even half hearted.

“Stiles…” Derek’s voice was stern and he appeared to be getting annoyed.

“I was just thinking about… about that last Christmas before we all left. When my dad was in the coma…” he didn’t need to finish the sentence. There was a sigh on the other end of the line and Stiles waited for Derek to speak.

“So what, Stiles?”

“I guess… I guess I never actually thanked you for that night. You really talked me off a ledge there… so, thanks.” The ending was lamely constructed, but it was sufficient for the purpose of the conversation.

“That was my job.” Derek put a somber emphasis on the term ‘was’, making Stiles’ heart sink. Derek was obviously still a bit broken up because of the pack splitting. Thinking back, the pack didn’t really split as much as cut out Derek and Isaac. And then Isaac was dead within the month – something about attempting to join another wolf pack in southern California. That meant Derek was taken out of his own pack.

“And you never got the respect you deserved.” Stiles said, Derek snorting as he blew of the attempted flattery.

Derek couldn’t even understand why Stiles had called, but the simple sound of his voice was enough to bring him out of the rut he’d been living in. Derek, during this awkward conversation, felt the desire for his pack again. He’d become a rogue wolf and adapted so quickly that he’d cut off all desire for a pack, but hearing the reconnection (at least a possibility) made all the emotions run back to him.

“Stiles?” Derek asked his name.

“Yeah?” Stiles was taken a bit aback by the abrupt change in subject.

“Would you want to have lunch some day? I’m in the city quite a lot, so maybe we could talk over that instead of this late night Christmas Eve – no, it’s Christmas Day – phone call.” Derek waited for a response.

“That sounds wonderful.” Stiles responded.

They set up a time and date for the following week, Tuesday. Both men felt that the idea of reconnection was everything they’d been missing for four years. That the pack-mentality was all that they needed to maintain their sanity, to keep themselves whole.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you like it... and let me know what you want to see from me! Prompts are always a good idea (even if I don't use them :D ) So let me know!
> 
> Also, I think I like shorter chapters better... anyone have a problem?

Stiles arrived at the Cafe about ten minutes before the two had scheduled to have lunch. He was wearing a Beacon Hills Lacrosse sweatshirt that he never was going to be able to throw away. It was his favorite thing to wear when it was cold outside - those winter coats just felt too bulky, too restrictive. The hem of his jeans was wet from the snow outside brushing up against it, but he was used to it after all these years. 

He got the two a table in the back, actually requesting a specific seat he could see. It was secluded enough that if the conversation became supernatural-oriented, the wouldn’t have to fear being listened in upon. It was an extra precaution, but even Stiles knew that in New York, very few people cared about other’s business. Stiles waited at the booth, watching the people walk by on the streets and wondering if Derek would be even recognizable after all these years. He was.

When Derek walked in through the door, he looked almost identical (which may have been because of the werewolf aging thing that Stiles never fully understood). He was even wearing his semi-iconic leather jacket. His hair was the same, the same cut and styling, and he still let his beard grow out just enough to remain respectable looking. Stiles’ heart leapt.

As though Derek had been listening for Stiles’ heart (which, in retrospect, he probably was listening for it), Derek turned his head to look at the man. His eyes were the same steely-green color they’d always been. But something about his eyes was different, hurt? Stiles didn’t quite understand what was behind his eyes, but he knew he didn’t like it.

As Derek neared, his lips spread into a half smile of sorts, making his face look sentimental. It didn’t fit his face like his scowl did, but Stiles much preferred to see a happy Derek than an angry one. Without speaking, Derek slid into the booth on the opposite side and gave Stiles a look up and down. “You look different, Stiles.” Derek said this with that same tone of concern he’d used earlier in the week.

“Yeah,” Stiles tried to think of something witty to say, but his mind was drawing a blank. It could have something to do with the fact that he hadn’t had anyone with whom he could be witty in quite a while. “Well, you were the one who reminded me we hadn’t seen each other in four years. I’d hope that four years would be enough time to change a little.” He cracked a little smile at the sarcastic look he received from Derek.  
“Yet your personality hasn’t changed too much I see.” Derek chided in, making a small smile again.

“Oh how I’ve missed that Derek Hale hatred.” Stiles tried to make it sound sarcastic, but it honestly came out sounding truthful. And yeah, maybe there was a part of Stiles that really did miss Derek exponentially more since the peppermint tea incident, but that shouldn’t affect him that much. He shook his head a little bit, and Derek didn’t miss it.

“What’s wrong, Stiles?” Derek’s voice, gruff and caring, made the conversation suddenly feel much heavier than it had moments before. “Just tell me, would you?”

“I -” Stiles began but he wasn’t quite aware of what was bothering him. He didn’t know if it was just homesickness, or if it was something more. “I’m fine. There’s nothing bothering me.”

“Stiles,” Derek’s face fell the the condescending, eyebrow oppressed look that Stiles knew all too well. “You really were so knowledgable about all these supernatural beings, but you can’t remember that I know when you’re lying?”

Shit, Stiles thought to himself. He had actually forgotten that. He rarely lied to Scott anymore, so he’d fallen out of practice of keeping his pulse and heart under control when lying. Yep, he thought, I guess I’d better figure out what’s been bothering me. “Well, I do know that. But -” he cut himself off, hoping Derek would simply let the subject drop.

“Stiles,” Derek half pleaded with his former friend, “just tell me! It’s me. I think I deserve a bit more than just a feeble excuse and a brushing off, especially after I saved your life countless times.” Derek wasn’t kidding. He was actually concerned with Stiles’ well being, with whatever was being kept from him.

“I don’t know what to tell you.” Stiles murmured, looking down at the table. The waitress had brought two glasses of water and Stiles used the straw to play with the ice cubes for a moment, before continuing, “I guess, I guess it’s that I miss the old days. I mean, I miss all the adventures… no, that’s not it. I miss Beacon Hills, but the town it was during high school. I miss the pack.”

“Stiles,” Derek began, thoughtfully, before laughing a bit. Stiles looked up, alarmed by the charming tones from Derek’s mouth. “Its the pack mentality. When you left for New York, you severed the bond with the pack pretty decently.”

“But I didn’t mean to do that. I just wanted to get away from the life threatening supernatural wolf-kanima-banshee shit.” Stiles protested.

This time Derek actually laughed more than just a chuckle. “Stiles, you don’t know what you do to people, do you?”

“Wha- What do you mean?” Stiles cocked his head to the side a bit, confused by Derek’s statement-turned-question.

“I mean, you don’t realize what sort of influence you had. Think about it. You’re like cocaine. Think hard. When Scott first got involved in the supernatural world, you were pulled into it. Since your introduction into that world, everything in Beacon Hills has become much more extreme, more supernatural. Once a person entered our supernatural world, they became obsessive over you.” 

Stiles frowned, still unsure of what Derek was getting at.

“For example, you and Jackson. Before Jackson became a member of the supernatural world, you were mortal enemies, but once he realized who you are, he warmed up to you. Or Lydia: once supernatural shit happened to her, she finally took notice of you.” Derek continued with an unnecessary sense of urgency, as though one of them was on their deathbed.

Stiles bit his lip, thinking. The examples were accurate enough. While he and Jackson were never that close, they at least learned to stand one another… well, Jackson learned how to not be an ass. Was this really it? Was I actually a member of the pack? Like a legitimate member? Stiles thought to himself.

“Stiles,” Derek continued, pulling Stiles back from his own thought and returning him to the conversation. “You don’t realize what Beacon Hills was like without you. When you left, the supernatural activity died away. It was actually calm. Like too calm to bear.”

Stiles frowned at that. It could just be a correlation. Nothing that mattered. Derek could see the doubt still flowing behind Stiles’ eyes. “You don’t see how you’re ridiculously attractive to supernatural creatures?! Are you kidding me? Scott was originally attracted to your personality. Your personality and your physical attributes…” Derek said those words in an odd cadence, “they just drive us wild. Like I said, you’re cocaine.”

Stiles felt a bit incredulous. He was the scuz of the pack. No one was ever attracted to him. It was always werewolves first, Stiles second. He was the afterthought to their personalities. What Derek was saying made absolutely no sense, but it made stiles question everything. He didn’t know what to make of it, so in true Stiles fashion, he began to talk.

“But you weren’t ever drawn to me.” he said sarcastically, “I mean, we both fought like siblings. You never wanted to be around me until I actually proved my worth in the pack by molotov-ing your psychotic uncle.”

“You grew up,” Derek shrugged, “so I didn’t have to babysit you anymore and we could develop a relationship no matter how one sided it was.” Stiles raised his eyebrows.

“But you’re a supernatural being and you weren’t attracted to me. Your argument isn’t valid.” Stiles sat back, determined not to further rethink his past.

“You really are oblivious, aren’t you?” Derek looked at Stiles with squinted, inquisitive and disbelieving eyes. Stiles faltered in his determination for a minute.

“No…” Stiles tried, furrowing his eyebrows a moment before waiting for Derek to continue.

“Stiles,” Derek lowered his head in a condescending manner that recalled the time Derek had been shot by Kate Argent with a magical bullet, “I fought you because I was attracted to you.”

“Well that doesn’t make sense.” Stiles said, automatically before the shock of what Derek had actually said set in. “Wait… what?”

“I fought you and pushed you away from me because I was attracted to you. I didn’t want to let you get close because everyone I let close ended up hurt. And that’s why I always tried to leave you out of the pack until I couldn’t deny that you were an integral member.”

“Attracted… me?” Stiles was still hung up on the part that Derek was attracted to him, or was at some point. The waitress came around with the food they’d ordered and they remained in silence while each delved into their food. Still, while they ate, Derek kept his head down, avoiding eye contact, and Stiles stared unabashed at Derek. Stiles continued eventually, a fry halfway to his mouth. “So, where do we go from here?”

“I don’t think we go anywhere. I mean, we’ve grown apart, and you’re still in college. I have a job and a business to run. And -” Derek was going to continue, but Stiles interrupted.

“What job?” For some reason, he couldn’t picture Derek with a job. Derek sighed for a moment before responding, “I own and run a nightclub down in Seaside Heights.” 

Stiles sputtered, “Isn’t that where the Jersey Shore group was?” Derek nodded, “And we still get money from them when tourists come through. I don’t mind it because it pays the bills. Anyway, I have my job to do and you have to pass college. This is just a lunch, and I never expected this sort of conversation to come up anyway.”

“And it’s not like you’re still attracted to me.” Stiles said nonchalantly, but readdressed the statement at the look received from Derek, “Right?”

“Well, Stiles, I said you were like cocaine. You’re addictive to us. To me. Once an addict, always an addict. It won’t change no matter how long it is between meetings. There’ll always be a part of me that doesn’t know how to live without you.” Derek was seriously looking depressed at the last sentence, as though it physically hurt him to think about living without Stiles.

“But it was my personality? That’s what you said.” Stiles didn’t know why he continued to talk when they were treading in dangerously interesting waters that he didn’t want to be in. He just kept talking because that was the only thing he knew how to do.

“I said Scott was attracted to your personality, like Jackson.”

“But not you?” Stiles felt a bead of sweat begin to form on his brow. The answer scared him.

“No, not me.” Derek said, abashed and ashamed.

“Then what is it for you?” Stiles internally abused himself for asking the question. Derek raised his head and they made eye contact, intense and unbreakable. Derek’s eyes were wide and vulnerable and made Stiles feel the fear in Derek’s heart.

“It was… you. All of you.” Derek whispered, his voice shaking as he said it as though he was admitting a deep dark secret. Well, he kind of was. His face flushed, something Stiles had never thought was possible, but now seemed perfectly normal. Derek looked back down at his plate, using a fork to draw circular designs in his ketchup.

“All of me? Like all of me?” Stiles clarified, knowing exactly what affirmation would mean. Derek slowly, but definitely, nodded. Stiles’ heart leapt harder than it ever had before and Derek’s eyes jumped up (Stiles’ really needed to remember that Derek could hear his heartbeat).

Derek let a small smile grace his features as he returned his eyes to his plate. Stiles, meanwhile, was in the middle of an intense character crisis. Why am I feeling so damn happy about this? This makes absolutely no sense to me right now! Derek Hale wants me? But maybe it’s not… but he said all of me… which would mean all. But I don’t even know how to start this? I mean it is DEREK HALE… Stiles continued to think in this manner for quite a while until his brain came to one single conclusive thought: Derek Hale actually wants me.

“So…” Stiles started, Derek’s head snapping to attention. This time, it was Stiles’ turn to lower his gaze to the plate and allow Derek to do the talking.

“So,” Derek sighed a bit, ready to continue, “how do you want to proceed?”

“I mean, I’d like to still see you. If you want, I mean, we don’t have to. But I do kinda miss seeing you.”

“I’ve missed you too, Stiles.” Derek couldn’t help but smile a toothy grin. “And, even though I have to work a lot, I did say I spent quite a lot of time in the city.” Derek let the finality of the sentence fade away so he could gauge a response from Stiles. Stiles took the initiative to look supremely pleased at this.

“I’d like that.” Stiles, man of many words, said succinctly. Derek grinned again, even wider than before. “And, Derek,” Stiles paused so that Derek looked him in the eye, “my apartment is your apartment.” 

Both Stiles’ and Derek’s faces held a persistent grin for the rest of their meeting. Soon the subject turned to Stiles’ studies (forensics, which came as no surprise to anyone) and how Derek had even gotten into the nightclub business (it was a coverup for a werewolf murder syndicate something-or-other). But no matter what the topic, the smiles remained.

At their parting, each established that they would make contact (whoever wanted to call first would call, in theory at least) in some form, and they parted with an awkward half hug. As he walked away, Stiles knew Derek could hear the speeding heartbeat in his chest. And he could almost picture the smile that was sure to be across Derek’s face right then.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fuel to the fire... hehehehehe

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading, guys! It's so awesome to see that people actually like all this stuff I think up!
> 
> I really hope you like it enough to keep going! I decided that I wanted it to progress a bit faster than I had originally intended and I hope you like where it goes!
> 
> I'm also working on another fic that I am REALLLLLLLLLY excited about! Stay tuned for more!

CHAPTER 3

Inevitably, Stiles was the one to cave first. He called Derek two days after their original meeting at the Cafe and he hated himself for it. Two days? You barely know this guy anymore… was all he could think as the phone in his hand rung. Derek didn’t answer right away, but by what seemed like the last ring, there was a scuffling sound.

“Hello?” A muffled growl reached Stiles’ ears. He frowned, then jumped and looked at his watch. It was nine in the morning - a perfectly reasonable time for anyone but a NIGHTCLUB OWNER.

“Oh shit…” Stiles said, realizing that he’d woken Derek, “I’m sorry. I didn’t think. Hey, I’ll call back later…” Stiles tried to let Derek go back to sleep, but Derek would have none of it.

“Whaddya need, Stiles?” He said, sounding almost instantly more alert than before. Stiles could hear the exhaustion in his voice and it made him cringe that he had woken Derek.

“I - well God, I feel like an idiot - but I was just going to see when you’d be in the city next.” Stiles said, sheepishly, fiddling with a pen and paper he had sitting out on his desk.

A gurgling, muffled sound came from the other end of the line and Stiles frowned, ultimately deciding that Derek had either rolled over in bed, or sat up. “Well, I’m uh… lemme look…” there was a rustling of paper, an actual calendar, “well… I mean, I work most nights, but I can get some of them off. My AssMan should be able to handle it without me if I schedule right.” Derek was thinking aloud, but Stiles choked on his own saliva.

“YOUR WHAT?!?” He cried, mid splutter.

“Assistant Manager… AssMan… get your head out of the sewers…” Derek scolded and Stiles felt the instant flashback to high school, buzz cut Stiles.

“It’s only in the gutter…” Stiles attempted to fake being offended.

“Anyway… what days are best for you?” Derek eventually asked.

“Weekends are always open… and that includes Fridays! Actually, you pick a time and we’ll do it. I don’t really care about any of my classes ‘cause they’re all GenEds…” Stiles faded out his words, just wanting to hear Derek set the pace.

“Okay then…” Stiles could tell Derek was withholding further scolding about not going to class. “Let’s say… what day is it… Tuesday… Let’s say Friday. I’ll get to the city by noon.”

“Sounds great!” Stiles felt his heart leap again, only a few days away! “Where should we meet?”

“Well, where do you live?” Derek’s voice came.

“Hey!” Stiles toyed, “you have to buy me dinner before you come back to my place and have your way with me!” He was clearly joking, but Derek still made a small sigh… but the half amused, half unsurprised type of sigh that made Stiles grin. “I’m still the same Stiles, Derek!”

“Oh, don’t I know it…” Derek murmured in what almost passed at a humorous tone. Stiles snickered before giving Derek the address of his apartment. He could hear Derek putting the information into his phone, the sound of fingertips pressing on the screen was unique unto itself. Stiles smiled as he realized that he’d be able to see Derek so soon. But when he thought about it, he became confused over what he was feeling.

+++++

Friday morning came quickly enough and before Stiles knew it, he was in a panic. At 11:45 that morning, he was frantically trying to get his apartment to look somewhat presentable for Derek. Not that Derek should expect Stiles to have become any less messy as a human being, but something compelled Stiles to actually clean. Maybe it was the possibility of a new start with a familiar person that was forcing Stiles to try to be something better than he was, he didn’t know, but he knew he needed to keep his apartment more clean.

Those last fifteen minutes until noon went by too fast for Stiles’ comfort, but thankfully Derek wasn’t perfectly punctual. Stiles betted that he had at least five more minutes before Derek arrived - time to fix the blankets and pillows he had draped over and across his couch. 

When Derek arrived, Stiles was waiting at the door, ready to open it at the first knock. He knew that Derek would be able to hear his nervous heartbeat through the door, but tact would keep the other from mentioning it, so Stiles could care less. At the knock, he pulled it ajar.

Derek was wearing the assumed Derek attire (a olive green henley the top few buttons left undone, dark colored but faded jeans that fit all too well, and a leather jacket) and Stiles grinned at the sight, remembering the person he remembered from his teenage years. He pulled the door wide, letting Derek step in from the hallway. Stiles noticed that his nose and cheeks were slightly red from the outside cold.

Stiles shut the door and turned around to see Derek shrugging off his jacket, his head staring around at the apartment. His eyes were curious, not judgemental in any way as he took a few steps and turned around. Stiles watched, silently, still smiling to himself. Derek had his own sense of class that, while it lacked in certain negotiative areas, was nice to see.

“Nice place,” Derek murmured almost to himself, although Stiles caught each word. The affirmation was more than enough for Stiles’ effort to be rewarded. “Thanks,” Stiles returned, lamely, smiling a bit and looking down in shyness.

Derek patted Stiles’ shoulder, causing Stiles’ neck to snap up into attention. His grin widened at the feeling of the touch. At the slightest feeling of his fingertips, a warmth had spread across Stiles’ skin, closely followed by a prickling of goosebumps as a chill ran down his spine. He had to shake his head a little to get the emotion out of his mind, an emotion he didn’t quite have a name for. A small smile had grown across Derek’s face as Stiles had his fit of emotion.

“So, what’d you want to do?” Stiles asked, awkwardly holding his own hand for something to do. He shifted from foot to foot, still standing by the door.

“Well, you said that I had to take you out to dinner before we could come back and I could have my way with you, so I was thinking we’d make a day of it.” Derek turned to face Stiles, who felt his mouth loosen.

Stiles felt his face reddening. Is he joking? He kept thinking that same thought over and over again while the color of his face was steadily approaching a deep shade of maroon. The pit of his stomach had dropped and was now fluttering as though a hungry family of mice was scurrying around, looking for food.

“Stiles?” Derek looked confused. Stiles couldn’t quite speak yet and he shivered a bit before he choked on his own saliva. “Stiles?!” Derek looked concerned and he took a step closer, reaching out to grip Stiles’ sides in an effort to steady the other man. 

“NO!” Stiles jumped back, bumping into the door. The feeling he wasn’t quite able to name previously had been sheer, unadulterated arousal. And he was quite mature enough to know how to handle it. “No, no, no, no, no, no, no, no - hell fucking no…” He trailed off in a stream of ‘no’s’ before he ended in silence.

Derek looked a bit alarmed and he held his hands up in the air in complete surrender. Stiles realized that his reaction had caused a confusion between them, “Noooooooooo” he sighed a moment and he stomped his foot. You’ve got to be fucking kidding me!

Derek let his hands fall to his sides and his eyebrows - those eyebrows though! - came together in concern. Stiles shuddered again. “How can this be happening to me?!” Stiles crooned, still in his head, not realizing he actually spoke aloud.

“What?” Derek asked and Stiles jumped from his reverie. “What?” Stiles asked in complete honesty. “What’s happening?” Derek asked, his voice saturated and thick with concern.

“You!” Stiles half-screamed. He recoiled his volume just a few notches before continuing. “How can you, Derek Hale, be here with me? Like, I mean, you’re you!”

“I am me.” Derek smiled and laughed a little. The sound made Stiles feel that again and he just couldn’t quite handle it.

“Will you please stop that?!” Stiles stared at Derek with a disbelieving face.

“Stop what?”

“Being so goddamned adorable! Like, what the fuck, your face can’t even be real!!” Stiles held out his hands to show just how annoying Derek’s adorable face was. Derek laughed a little more this time, the deep jingle of his laugh resonating throughout Stiles’ ears and head on repeat.

“Trust me, I know that my face is real.” Derek said, mid-laugh. His eyes were glittering their beautiful green color as his smile widened to its fullest extent. Stiles threw his hands in the air in exasperation before he let them fall and swing at his sides.

“Ugh,” Stiles sighed in resignation, “Let’s go.” With that, Stiles turned and opened the door, grabbing his keys and stepping out, waiting for Derek to follow. Still smiling such an adorable smile, Derek stepped out of the apartment. 

They walked the streets, their noses cold in the brisk winter air. There was no destination that either really knew to direct their feet towards, but both were satisfied simply being with the other. It felt both nostalgic as well as comforting just to be in the other’s presence. 

Stiles’ feet led the pair to a small restaurant in the middle of nowhere. Neither knew exactly what should be expected out of this little joint, but they were willing to risk it. They seated themselves in a secluded booth and a bubblegum-blowing bimbo of a blonde came over to take their orders. She could practically be a walking stereotype herself, but neither boy took notice as she shamefully flirted with Derek.

They ordered drinks and food, neither really bothering to invest much time in what they were ordering, then began to talk. Just to talk. It was amazing for both of them to tell the other what had happened after Beacon Hills had faded away. They talked about everything from Stiles’ expanded comic collection and the movies he’d been obsessing over to Derek’s descent from brooding outcast into normalcy (at least as normal as possible).

The conversation lasted them through the entire meal and the walk back to Stiles’ apartment. Derek enjoyed the jingle of Stiles’ laugh - each tone that his extraordinary hearing heard made his heart leap a bit harder and his affection grew. Stiles’ loved learning the little quirks to Derek that had been kept hidden by the brooding troll he had been in Beacon Hills (for example, Stiles actually learned that Derek was an obsessive fan of Quentin Tarantino).

They sat on Stiles’ couch for what seemed like minutes but actually phased into hours. The sky darkened without either noticing, because the near constant lilting laughter had both of them in an enlightened state. Stiles was focussed on Derek’s face and the expressions that crossed his face - a set of genial expressions that Beacon Hills had never seen. Derek was lost in Stiles’ eyes and the way they glimmered and danced when he laughed.

Derek was the first to realize that he needed to get back home. He jumped when he first had a bit of a hard time seeing Stiles (without his werewolf eyes) through the dim lighting. In a flurry, he stood and Stiles reacted by standing himself - almost subconsciously - and taking a step back. 

“What’s wrong?” Stiles looked concerned, as if he’d said something wrong and upset Derek.

“I have to go. It’s late and I should get home.” Derek said, giving Stiles a reassuring look as if to tell him, I’m not going away forever.

“Well…” Stiles flushed, looking sheepish and strangely like the seventeen year old version of himself. Derek raised an eyebrow. “You could always, ya know, stay here.”

Derek raised the other eyebrow to match the first. Stiles continued in a blur of words, “I mean, I did say that my apartment was your apartment, so you could stay, but I understand totally why you wouldn’t - I probably shouldn’t have even asked because it’s completely stupid to think that you’d want to stay here, I mean, it isn’t that great of an apartment and - ”

Derek silenced Stiles with a small and soft, yet fully understanding smile. He took a step closer and leaned into Stiles. Derek wrapped his arms like a blanket around Stiles’ frame and both their hearts exploded in pitter-pattering marathon. Derek put his face close to Stiles’ neck and Stiles could feel the warm breath on his skin.  
Derek raised his head and looked at Stiles’ eyes. Slowly, letting Stiles make the decision of whether or not he could continue, Derek leaned in. The explosion of emotion when their lips met made both Derek and Stiles quiver. Their built up tension and all their past distain flowed through their mouths, fueling the fire of passion. Their eyes closed and they let go of any inhibitions, forgetting the time, forgetting everything but the spectacular now.


	4. Chapter 4

Stiles’ mind whirled in a rage of wonder. He couldn’t fully comprehend what was happening to him in this moment, he didn’t know how they had reached this point in the relationship (because they weren’t really in a relationship to begin with), however he did fully understand that he was happy. A small part of his mind had put this moment as something that would be completely awkward and unimpressive; luckily, Derek didn’t disappoint. 

Stiles lifted his hands to wrap around the back of Derek’s neck, pulling him closer to continue, yet giving him a place to station his mind. It kept him in the moment, enjoying it but still afraid of what was happening. He wasn’t aware of what was his legs were doing, but before he regained awareness, he was being fully held up by Derek’s arms.

And it felt right.

Derek felt the heat between their mouths slowly increasing and it almost pained him to hold back a growl. But it was already too late. By the time the thought had crossed his mind, the ripping growl had roared through his throat and had become audible. Derek tried to play it off as though nothing had pushed its way from his depths, but Stiles wouldn’t have it. 

As their mouths were pressed together, Derek felt Stiles’ lips pressed thin as he smiled. The lips were pressed into a wide smile when Derek painfully opened his eyes to recognize that the mood had been suddenly killed. Stiles’ face was genial and still happy, even though the moment was over. Derek couldn’t help but feel the small pang of longing in his chest at the absence of Stiles’ mouth against his.

Stiles rolled his body away to the other side of the bed, a small chuckle slipping from his throat. Derek still held on to Stiles’ waist, but craved the contact of their bodies again. His wolf wanted to whine a bit, then push close to Stiles. That cinnamon-spearmint-Stiles scent had Derek’s wolf begging to be closer. 

“I cannot believe that just happened.” Stiles didn’t sound angry, just confused. Derek could still smell the traces of arousal in the air, but the spicy twang of humor had steadily crept out to replace it. Derek chose to breathe in, savor what he could of the moment. “I can’t believe that just happened,” Stiles repeated, “I mean, you’re you!”

“Stiles,” Derek whispered, half through a laugh, “we went over this. I am me, and you are you.”

Stiles turned on his side, half leaning on Derek’s body again. “But why is this suddenly happening now? What about four years ago? This wasn’t a thing...”

Derek rested his head in the center of the pillow, pulling his arm back in, dragging Stiles back to his chest. Both of them tried not to realize how perfectly Stiles fit against Derek’s pecs. “Stiles, personally, I’m not one to commit statutory rape - even with the sheriff’s kid. You were seventeen, and I couldn’t do anything until you were eighteen. But then, before you were eighteen, all the… stuff… happened, and you moved to New York.”

“So you didn’t even call?” Stiles sounded weaker, and Derek could smell the sourness of pain and the flush of anxiety that rolled from Stiles.

“I never realized that this could actually be something.” Stiles looked up at Derek and moved up to kiss him. Derek let his arms wrap around the younger boy’s body. Stiles breathed in between their kisses, each time smelling that particular sweet peppermint smell.

Stiles paused, “This can definitely be something.”


End file.
